Gung Ho Gals Hit Bala

This weekend 30+ ladies (I know that sounds like something from the W.I. and I guess some are a bit like that, but most of us are just a tad too old to be called "girls", even if we still behave like them). It was lovely. For a whole weekend, nobody sjouted me with any sense of urgency in their voice or said "Mu...uuuuu....uuuum" or "Miiiii....iiiiii....ssss". I actually got to sit down for a considerable length of time!!! Wow!
Dot Bygroves (no pseudonyms for Dot, somehow it just wouldn't be right) was amazing, speaking to us about forgiveness.
Saturday afternoon has usually been a choice between a walk or a trip round Bala Lake on the steam train. This year was only different for the absence of any desire to do the train ride again. Gung-Ho Roanna wanted to lead us in the path of Mary Jones, which sounded quite interesting. Out came the famous map, the map which has magical powers to get women lost in the Welsh Hills. Well, we thought we'd quite like to see Mary Jones's cottage and so off we set. Yes, dear reader, it's easy to spot the serious walkers from the casual strollers by the footwear and presence or absence of sturdy, waterproof outdoor ready jackets. Note though that some ladies are clearly casual walkers by the attire, but kid themselves and set off on the walk anyway.
Well, when we finally (after a few turns, nail biting reversals and map consultations) reached said cottage, it was rather disappointing:
Here we are, staring in disappointment at the remains of the cottage.

But Gung-Ho Roanna was not thwarted. You only have to check out the outfit to see that she wouldn't be. Onward and upward by Cader Idris was the battle cry.
Out came the famous map, safely esconced in sensible, protective plastic special map cover thing:

You wouldn't believe the size of the hill they were going to climb! Now you have to understand how so very unsporty I am. When I was growing up as a very short-sighted girl who didn't yet know that she seriously needed glasses, I suffered terribly in PE because, unless the ball was luminous, there was no chance whatsoever I was going to catch it. Even luminous balls were hard to see. And if you're growing up in Salford and you can't catch a ball, you expect to be thumped or slapped or at least called something unrepeatable every time you let down your team (for which you had been the last to be picked.) Hence the equation Olga Da Polga + P.E./ Sport = Torture.

Thankfully, I had come in the naughty car. Quickly, the three amigos, Joody Knives, Kara Blunt and I were able to take a detour. Don't we look pleased with ourselves! Fourth amigo Meg MacFrenzy had been in the naughty car but had defected to the dark side of the Hiking Boot Gals. Lill Blackpath had obviously been torn which way to go, but as a serious runner had gone with Gung-Ho Ro. I'd upload a photo, but blogger won't let me at the moment.

All in all, it was a whole lot of fun.

That evening was entertainment evening. We played a game where you have to stand in the middle and say something you have never done and everyone else who's never done it has to move seats. The aim is to get somebody else in the middle. It was, shall we say, very revealing! Especially entertaining was the lady with a 16 year old son who got up to "I have never had a baby". Well now where did he come from then?

We really feel there is a need for a man's weekend now.....